Busy parents need Santa Claus gifts, too
Perhaps "Tis the season," perhaps not. We are getting really close to the time when our children's eyes light up with excitement and yet the stress of the holiday season for adults increases. Because I haven't written much, I wanted to do something for this festive time of year. I was stuck on doing something serious versus something lighter, and a friend told me that this is a time of happiness and joy. I received this from a friend, and the author is unknown. I did make a few revisions so it would be more applicable.
I have been a good parent, or at least tried, all year. I have fed, cleaned, and have done everything in my power to make their lives easier and on-demand. I have made more trips to the doctor then I have in years and sold 62 cases of cookie dough to raise money for the playground equipment at school. I have ventured through massive rainstorms to go to the store to buy toothpicks for a class experiment.
I have taken so many labels off soup cans that my fingers are raw and I have transported my kid's backpack to school more times than he has. I sat through endless hours of soccer, basketball, softball and baseball games to the point that I no longer can sit on bleachers without feeling uncomfortable. I have been to so many school programs that I now know them by heart to the point that it irritates the people next to me because of my singing.
I was hoping that you could spread my wish list out over several Christmases, because I had to write this letter with one of the kid's red crayons and on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between rinses. And I may not find any more free time in the next 10 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes Santa, so please be gentle:
I would like a pair of legs that don't ache at the end of the day from chasing the kids. Could you also throw in a new back? Mine is shot from bending over to pick up toys. While you are at it, could I have some new arms that don't flap in the breeze but are strong enough to carry the kids to bed, take out the trash, carry the salt to the water softener, and load and unload groceries? While you are at it, could I perhaps have a smaller waist, because over the past years I have lost my original one because of eating popcorn, hotdogs, and nachos at ballgames?
If you really are feeling good, could I have a new car? One that has fingerprint resistant windows and upholstery that won't stain at the drop of a soda or ice cream? Could it have a radio that only plays adult music? In fact, I could use a new television. The kind that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals or cartoons. A television that only responds to my commands and no other.
I would also like to have an addition built on the house. I need a place to go when the world gets crazy and I need to be alone. The door can only be opened by me, and nobody else can enter without my approval. Oh, and the walls should have a lot of padding and naturally be sound proof.
Could you maybe spare a talking doll that only says, "Yes, Dad," just to boost my parental confidence?
On a less practical note, I could use some jeans or pants that I can zip up without the aid of a power tool? Not to mention a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog. And, for goodness sake, please don't bring the Playdoh travel pack, the hottest stocking stuffer. You know the one that comes in fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet and make the in-laws' house look like mine?
If it is too late to find any of these products, I would settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container. I wouldn't mind a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. How hard would it be to declare pizza a healthy food? Could you maybe coerce the children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or, maybe just have them pick up their bedroom -- just a little bit.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing, and my child saw my feet under the laundry room door and he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip, and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to the cookies on the table, but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.
A very tired and stressed parent